


Born under a bad sign.

by millygal



Series: Stydia's comment fic meme [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, BAMF Crowley, Gen, Introspection, Post-Finale, Season Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11190138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: I would usually put this in the notes, but it actually explains the whole fic, lolSupernatural, AU to the season finale (or speculation for Season 13), one should never underestimate the King of Crossroads, not even the King of Hellthat's a thought running through my head for some time now, ever since I saw both a screencap of Lucifer in the end of Season 12 and Crowley back in Season 8. As far as I can remember, Lucifer's eyes never had a glow to them. So why are they suddenly glowing in the same red as we came to associate with our favorite crossroads demon?





	Born under a bad sign.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Huntress79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/gifts).



> This is written for Sandy79's prompt and after I'd told her I was working on it, she said she'd written it with me in mind - COOL!!! Thanks bb. I hope you love it! *is nervous*
> 
> THANK YOU to jj1564 for her tireless beta work!! And Stir for her read throughs and amazing comments!

Crowley’s body, borrowed for nowhere near as long as some he’s worn, but run on fumes none the less, flounders under the weight of his centuries old corrupted soul, topped off by an angel blade sliding into it like a knife through warm butter.

The tip of the blade penetrates his sternum and Crowley thinks perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, even with _Plan B_ tucked firmly up his sleeve. 

He loved this body, to a degree.

No, Fergus loved this body. 

The first time the tailor slithered and slunk from the depths of depravity into the waking world of mortals and minions, and men who just couldn’t say no to a deal, he’d housed himself in a two-bit drunk. Not quite understanding his role in all this and clinging to the feeling of being nothing more than a foot soldier, Fergus had chosen badly and Lilith had stripped him of the vessel almost immediately.

The first time you’re forcibly ripped from a vessel is a pain no Demon ever forgets.

The brimstone covered bitch had clicked her fingers and waggled her hand, and with a smile watched as Fergus burned from the inside out. 

The tendrils of his consciousness had become so entangled in that mortal’s meat suit that after she’d exorcised him he’d felt the sting for a full year.

The second vessel was much more to Lillith's liking, but Fergus couldn’t quite get the hang of ovaries and hormones, and regardless of whether you’re breathing, hygiene is still an issue when hot running water has yet to be invented, especially so for someone of the female persuasion.

A string of bodies became Fergus’ home. One after the other discarded for the stupidest reasons or on a petulant whim of Lillith’s, and the Demon continued to allow the degradation of his blackened soul.

Finally, after three centuries of running around behind that white eyed bitch and her crazy schemes, Crowley had been born. The creature Fergus grew into in order to stop the constant feel of disappointing his superiors, and gave him that much needed shove to step out from under their boots.

Crowley still sometimes remembers what it felt like to be Fergus, to live by the rule of a Demon with high ideals and an even higher sense of self worth, and in those moments he revels in the birth of this persona.

This persona gave him the strength to hand the Colt to Sam and Dean Winchester.

This persona is also, unfortunately, responsible for the majority of his stupidly planned and even more poorly executed schemes for the last seven years.

However, despite all that’s passed, the part of him that still feels like _Fergus_ , loves this body.

To have to let this body finally die is something Crowley hadn’t foreseen would hurt quite so much.

Facing off against Lucifer, who’s clearly underestimated the King of Hell, once again - fucking pillock - Crowley finds himself intrigued as to what it will feel like residing in _that_ vessel.

The hilt of the blade slams into his chest and Crowley’s essence crackles and sparks, creating a light show worthy of the Super-Bowl, and then there’s nothing but darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turns out you can’t force Lucifer from his vessel, you can however blanket his mind enough to take control, and it’s only as Crowley sinks the blade between Castiel’s shoulders in order to _keep up appearances_ he realises how much he’s going to miss that pesky Angel and his annoyingly flappy trench coat.

The look of devastation on Dean and Sam’s faces is as sweet as he expected, but the sudden sense of loss at no longer being able to feel Castiel’s essence knocks Crowley’s confidence enough to lose his grip on Lucifer’s mind.

Not enough to forget to drop the Angel Blade.

For the briefest of moments the Demon can feel the Devil’s rage rumbling across his consciousness, like someone throwing rocks down the side of a mountain. It gains speed and momentum until Crowley has to mentally do the limbo in order to avoid being decimated.

_You can’t kill me, I’m inside you. Huh, I didn’t realise how dirty that would sound until I said it out loud - or - you know what I mean._

**Crowley, you’re a dead Demon. What have you DONE?!”**

_Don’t get your knickers in a knot, Luci, I’m just borrowing it until I can find something more suitable, and way less filled with **crazy**._

It’s only because he’s busy having an inner debate that Crowley stumbles when staring down the barrel of Mama Bear Winchester’s bitch attack.

The matriarch lands blow after blow and Crowley _and_ Lucifer lose their footing, ending up smack dab back in the middle of a world Crowley had been hoping to avoid.

As the rip in space and time closes up, the scream emanating from Lucifer’s mouth echoes across the barren landscape, and Mary stares at the creature with its red flashing eyes and wonders if her ears are playing tricks on her, because she swears she can hear something else behind the Devil’s pain.

 _Fucking perfect. You had to interfere, didn’t you?_.

**Don’t blame me, Fergus. You’re the one who botched it, yet again. Now we’re stuck here like this, forever.**

_Speak for yourself, I’ve got a Rambo-type rogue Hunter to go a calling on._

**Fergus, my boy -**

_Don’t call me BOY and my name is Crowley! And don’t think for one minute I’m letting you take control. Prick._

It takes all of Crowley’s willpower but he manages to re-tie Lucifer’s consciousness, and tether him into the mental cage constructed in the back of his mind.

As Crowley fights the Devil, Mary runs for her life, never knowing how close she came to death.

Crowley’s essence finally creeps and crawls into Lucifer’s vessel’s limbs, and he really rather enjoys the scream-track playing on a loop in the back of his head. He thinks maybe he can even put up with the lack of quiet if it means hearing Lucifer’s anguished cries constantly.

“Right, now, let’s see where that twit Bobby Singer ran off to, shall we?”

 

  
Fin.


End file.
